Tattoos and More Surprises
by margaritalouita
Summary: A fun little romp exploring Draco and Hermione's relationship in an utterly OOC and slightly AU setting.  Hermione is a tatted Ravenclaw smart aleck, and Draco is our ever charming Slytherin Prince. M for language and adult situations.
1. Detention and Tattoos

**Disclaimer: I don't own, despite all my deepest darkest wishes. JKR has that lovely honor.**

That slimy git. I couldn't believe fucking Malfoy had given me detention. I was just there, minding my own business whilst enchanting an admittedly lewd picture of our previously mentioned Head Boy, when he caught sight and slammed me with this asinine punishment. Fuck, can't he take a joke? It's not like he's always been the most cordial towards me either.

"Granger! How the hell did you get into Ravenclaw if you're this air headed? Please tell me you didn't suck Flitwick off, that's just pathetic."

I narrowed my eyes at him, furious. "That's rich coming from you, Malfoy. You ARE Snape's little fairy, bending over for him every night, right?"

Fuck. Bastard shoved me into a wall. I guess that was a little harsh, but he did start it. I don't know what his issues are lately, but it's like he's PMSing. I mean, normally I get along with him fairly well. Not that we're friends. We'd probably kill each other before that ever happened.

"You're lucky I like watching your arse, Granger, or I wouldn't have been so nice."

I sat up from scrubbing the floors. It was humiliating enough that he insisted on babysitting me during this ordeal, but to know he was checking out my bum was beyond infuriating. Of course, me being a moron, I'd worn my shorts and a tank top. Screw this, I was pissed, and he just insisted on egging me on. I threw down the rag, stood up, and punched that prat square in the chest.

At least, I tried to. Right before my fist connected with his thin frame, he grabbed my hand, shoved it behind me, and pinned me to the wall. I was painfully aware of how close he was, his warm breath against my neck. I froze, my eyes squeezed shut, waiting for him to either hex or hit me. What he did next shocked me more than if he had started square dancing with Dobby.

"Meet me outside the Head Boy dorm in an hour. Your detention was over two hours ago, but I'm not quite finished with you. Don't keep me waiting."

The cold air hit me like a brick the instant his body left mine. I pressed my head against the wall and started punching the shit out of it.

"Motherfucking – bloody – fucking – slimy – GIT!" I growled at the stone in front of me. What the hell did that goddamn prat want from me? He had better keep his hands to himself or I would gladly be so kind as to remove what little manhood that prick had. Thoroughly fed up with this turn of events, I stomped off to my dorm to change into something less arousing, hopefully the clothing equivalent of an ice cold shower. He probably thought I hadn't felt his hard on against my arse, but I had no intention of encouraging THAT whatsoever.

Fuck. Fuckity fuck. What the fuck did I just do? I'm a Malfoy, we don't associate with tatted girls, least of all get fucking aroused by them! Fuck you, little Draco. You just have absolutely no sense of propriety. Scratch that, no fucking sense at all. I had just intended to give Parker a good ribbing during her detention. She completely deserved it after that "Wanker" piece. But then she had the audacity to show up in her skimpy clothes, and – fuck. That dragon tattoo up her leg is what started this whole mess. I had never seen it before, although everyone knew Granger's flesh was far from pristine. I mean, it's hard not to notice the barbell through her tongue, not to mention the double piercing in her nose. On most girls it would have seemed pretentious, if not downright excessive, but on Granger... damn. It just made her look fucking exotic, what with her brown curls and melted chocolate eyes. I knew (hoped) she hadn't noticed me squirming at the sight of her on her hands and knees. When I made that comment about her arse, I could've sworn I saw the dragon move.

I glanced at the clock. Shit. Granger was going to be here in less than ten minutes... if she actually showed up. I ran a hand through my hair absentmindedly, the bangs flipping straight back into my eyes, then hurried to to change out of my robes.

I stood outside the door to Malfoy's room and shifted uncomfortably. I had shown up five minutes late, mostly just to be a brat. And because I had to finish touching up my makeup. NOT that I was primping for that slimy git, or anything like that. Disgusting.

I started tapping my foot impatiently. Was that git ever going to open the goddamn door? I was cursing under my breath when his door swung open abruptly, smacking straight into my arse. I reeled around to glare at him, but just as soon as my violent retort was bubbling to the surface, my brain and mouth made a serious disconnect.

"Fucking Malf- Woah. Umm."

I just stared at him, mouth slightly gaping. Ever the silkily cool one, Malfoy merely raised an eyebrow. We were practically wearing the same thing; black v-neck, blue skinny jeans, and TOMS. Except mine were red and his were charcoal. Like his eyes when he was angry. What the hell am I thinking, snap out of it Hermione! Shit, he said something.

"What?" Idiot. Where is the restart button for my brain?

Malfoy smirked. That stupid prat smirked! "I was merely commenting on the similarity in our outfits. Are you sure you're not a seer, Granger? Trelawney would be ecstatic to have you join her in her drug-induced psychoses."

I glowered at him. "Don't fucking insult me. Even if I were any good at divination, why the hell would I have planned this?" I gestured between us.

That damn smirk again. "Oh Granger, it's so cute when you act like you don't want me."

"Oh go shove it, Malfoy. It would take a lot more effort than that before I would even consider you as an option." I shoved past him through the door, hoping the bright pink adorning my cheeks had escaped his notice. I managed a wry smile as he sputtered behind me.

I stopped as I entered his living area. It was more spacious than I had originally assumed; he even had a private bath, which, from what I could see at this angle, looked very glamorous. I could probably go swimming that tub was so enormous... Malfoy could even fit in there with me. I mentally slapped myself. My brain was officially shot tonight, and I was in deep trouble.


	2. You little tart

**Disclaimer: Still don't own, not until JKR decides to bestow that honor upon me.**

I stood behind her as she took it all in. She was peeking at the bathroom, and I was sure she could see my swimming pool of a bathtub. I wonder what it would take to get her in there with me... I grinned as an evil thought crossed my mind.

"Care for a tart, Granger?" Her eyes narrowed towards me in suspicion.

"What are you pulling, Malfoy? This obviously has nothing to do with official Head duties, so don't try and pull that crap on me."

"Granger, I'm shocked and hurt that you could even think I would do something so rebellious. I know how much you enjoy following the rules." I smirked once more as she rolled her eyes at me. "Just take the damn tart, it's not going to hex you."

She raised her eyebrow and tentatively picked up the strawberry covered sweet, almost as if she expected it to explode in her hand if she looked at it wrong.

The red juice burst from the sweet and coated her lips. It took all my willpower not to shove her against another wall and lick her clean. I cleared my throat nervously, hoping she hadn't noticed my staring. Even worse. She had started licking her fingers clean. Disaster time. This wasn't going how I had planned whatsoever. If I didn't slow things down, I would end up with a knee in my crotch instead of her in my bed. I reminded myself that I had to win this bet with Blaise, if not for the sake of my pride, but for Granger's sake. Not that I cared about her. She was too... different for me to take seriously. But in all honesty, it just wasn't fair for anyone to be in Blaise's line of sight. I was an admitted womanizer, but Zabini made even me look like the gushiest romantic since the existence of Twihards. I always felt bad for the girls he targeted. I scowled, thinking back to the day Blaise and I had placed the bet.

It had been during supper in the Great Hall about two weeks ago. I had been sitting with Blaise at the Slytherin table. As Head Boy, I could sit wherever I pleased, but none of the other three houses would tolerate having a Slytherin within spitting distance. Blaise had nudged me as Granger strolled in, nonchalantly sat at the end of the Ravenclaw table, near enough to not seem too conspicuous, but far enough to keep out of any conversations.

"500 galleons says I can get her in my bed by the end of the year, Malfoy. What do you say to that?"

I scoffed at his not-so-subtle inferences. "Good luck with that one, Zabini. She'd probably break you in two before you could even say hello." I hoped she would someday. Blaise might act like my friend, but he gives even me the willies.

"You think you can do better?"

"Without a doubt."

"Fine, then it's a bet. Whomever beds her first will be 500 galleons richer, thanks to the other. Start counting your knuts, Draco. Blaise is in the HOUSE!"

I rolled my eyes as he strode over to Granger and tapper her on the shoulder. To my delight, she gave him a disgusted look and commenced ignoring him. He faltered, stunned that she could resist his charms. "Foolish Blaise," I thought. He then sat next to her and went to put his arm around her waist when she stood up, grabbing fistfuls of his robe in the process, and bodily threw him into the wall.

"Touch me again, Zabini, and you'll be crying over more than a few bruises." The entire hall erupted in laughter as she calmly stepped over him and marched out towards Ravenclaw tower. I couldn't resist a smug smirk as Blaise limped back over to his seat beside me.

"Not a fucking word, Malfoy. Not one fucking word."

I grinned at his sour mood, and dug into my treacle. The game had begun.

Shit. She had said something, and I had been off on another planet entirely. "What?" Well that was certainly eloquent. "What?" Idiot. I was mentally punching myself in the face.

She raised one sculpted eyebrow, a wry smile curling up her lips. "I was just thanking you for the treat." Good. I was off the hook. "And making a list of your possible ulterior motives towards me meeting you here alone tonight." And scratch that. I was on the hook once more.

She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms while waiting for my response. I realized a lie would just leave me with some very sore and bruised manhood in the morning, so I decided on telling her the truth, if only a very small part of it.

"You intrigue me," I stated simply.

The eyebrow again. "That's it? That's the only reason?"

"Is it not a good enough reason?" I countered, unwilling to state anymore.

She shrugged, seeming to be accepting of my reasoning. She sauntered around the room silently, and I couldn't help but gaze intently at her languid, liquid movements. Her voice was so soft, I almost missed it.

"What about me intrigues you?"

I faltered, unsure of what to say that wouldn't either make her run away or permanently injure me in the process. I decided words were dangerously useless in quantities larger than one. Possibly two. Instead, I took a few quiet strides until my hands rested on her hips from behind.

"This," I murmured into her hair. I ran my fingers down her arms, lightly tracing the veins before turning her around. I grabbed her hands and kissed them. "These as well," I whispered, watching as she sighed, her eyes closed. I figured I hadn't been beaten to a bloody pulp yet, and took it a little further. Twisting my fingers into her hair, I gently brushed my lips past hers, so softly she might have been able to mistake it as my breath on her face. I was leaning her against the wall. Hands fluttering at her sides when her eyes popped open, and she went stiff. I paused, unsure of what I had done wrong, but not willing to let go quite yet. Unfortunately, Granger had different ideas, and I found my backside violently introduced to the ground, while her retreating form scurried through the portrait entrance.

"What the bloody hell was that?"

I ran toward the prefects' bathroom and stopped just short of colliding with the sink. Cold water. I was in emotional shock, not to mention my train of thought had not only gone off track, but bloody well jumped off the nearest cliff as well. The shock of the frigid liquid kept me from an utter derailment. One moment, Draco had been playing the usual conceited git; the next, he was molesting my lips with his own, and I had molested him back. Then, just as suddenly, yours truly suffered a minor lapse in cognitive function and knocked Draco arse over tea kettle. Hold up. When in the bloody hell did I start calling him DRACO? Ugh. I needed a dreamless draught and no socialization for the next twelve hours. At the bare minimum.

I trudged to my dorms, shrinking into the shadows in case Dra- no, Malfoy, was lurking around. I needn't have worried apparently, for he was nowhere in sight, and I made it to my room un-accosted.

**A/N**

**Thank you for the review :] I've been working on this on and off for about a month now, and I have more written that I haven't bothered posting yet, but I want to try and stay a chapter or two ahead of everyone else. There should be more tonight.**


	3. Sudsy Deception

**Disclaimer: Do not own, do want. But don't own. **

I woke the next morning, my head pounding as though I had been binge drinking. I almost wish I had been, since at least I could presume I had enjoyed myself, but alas, I knew better than to hope for that. I rubbed the goosebumps on my arms, thinking over the previous night's events. My lips still tingled with the ghost of Malfoy's touch, and I licked my lips, hoping to taste a remnant of his flavor. It had been sweet, like sticky pineapple and strawberry, although that could easily have been a direct result of the tart he'd nagged me into eating. I shook my curls loose from their matted mess and headed off to the prefect bathrooms, dragging a robe over my shoulders as I went on my way. I nearly ran into Potter and Weasley on my way there. Just the perfect combination to an already questionable morning. The two had been close friends of mine when we first started at Hogwarts, despite being in different houses, but once they started associating with me for mere homework purposes, I called it quits and resumed my loner tendencies. I still caved in and assisted them with the more major assignments, but other than that, we never spoke anymore.

"'Mione, we haven't spoken to you in ages! Still writing enough to compete with the entire staff of the Daily Prophet?" Ron wheedled, clearly hoping to copy off my Potions essays from last year. Snape had made him repeat for exploding even more cauldrons than Neville.

Harry at least had the decency to look slightly abashed for Ron's lack of tact. He shook his head and asked what my plans were for the weekend. I told him I had lots of studying to accomplish, even though I had finished it last weekend, and reminded Ron that I had put him on an essay limit this year, and so he would actually have to write some of his own essays. I knew this would fail utterly by Christmas, but a girl has to try, right? I managed to shake them off, laughing at Ron's look of utter terror in his eyes, and slipped into the bathroom.

I woke to something slamming into my window. I rolled out of bed with my sheets cocooned around my shoulders like a mutant parka to investigate. Blaise's moron owl was head-butting the glass as though continued persistence would result in successful entry to my room. Rolling my eyes, I let the idiot bird in, only for him to nip at my wrist and drop a letter on my desk before flying away. Carelessly opening it, I perused the letter and went from irritated lack of interest to borderline panic. Blaise was apparently having no qualms about crossing certain boundaries with this stupid bet, and if I didn't hurry, Granger was going to have a bit of a difficult time shrugging him off. Most definitely a more difficult time than the fiasco in the Great Hall two weeks ago.

I threw open the door to the prefect bathroom, yelling for Blaise to come out before I dragged his sorry hide out when I heard the spluttering. I could see Hermione, her face half-submerged, and a nearly deadly look coming from her eyes and directed most certainly at my person. Much to my chagrin, I blushed a brilliant magenta and quickly gazed around for any signs of Zabini. Wonderful, the bastard tricked me, and now I look like the biggest creeper in school. I noticed the tip of Granger's wand poking through the surface of the suds.

"Granger, this isn't what it looks like," I pleaded.

"Malfoy, you have less than thirty seconds to convince me that hexing your bollocks off isn't a good idea."

I blanched, my eyes wide as saucers. "Granger, I didn't know you were in here, I was looking for Blaise, I swear. I didn't see anything, your suds are too thorough!" This wasn't entirely true, but I had no intention of hinting at my less-than-pure eyeful I'd received.

She glared at me, but lowered her wand and set it to the side. "Turn all the way around, Malfoy. I'm getting out and I have no desire for you to see anything." I acquiesced, placing my hands over my eyes, hearing the slosh of the water as she removed herself from the bath.

"Alright, I'm decent, you can turn around."

I slowly lowered my hands and turned around, trying desperately not to gawk and failing miserably. Fuhh me. I'm turning into some lily-hearted bastard going weak at the knees over amply covered, if voluptuous and inked, flesh. I could scarcely see the head of the dragon adorning her thigh peeking out from under the robe. Snap out of it and focus. Hermione is still armed and dangerous. Especially if you slip up and call her by her first name, you sodding moron. Ugh, time to face the music, and pray to anyone with the slightest Slytherin sympathies that I came out of this intact

**A/N**

**Review, plz? Hearts forever and ever.**


	4. A Devious Plan

**Disclaimer: Still don't own.**

"Well? Care to tell me what it was that Blaise said in order to convince you to barge in on me in my naked and sudsy glory?" I can't believe I just said that to him. I'm literally losing my mind. I shouldn't be this worked up over a boy, fully clothed nonetheless. Alas, Malfoy had finally managed to charm even myself into a blathering idiot in his presence. Two, however, can play that game. And I fight dirty.

He winced at my glare and mumbled something nondescript about an emergency he hadn't bothered to be given the details of. Something didn't feel right, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I knew Draco was lying to me, but why? It was pretty obvious he hadn't expected to find me in here, but that excuse was just pathetic, especially for a Slytherin. I intended to get to the bottom of this, but for now I figured it would be more conducive to my investigation to let Draco think I had believed him. I assumed Blaise did have something to do with this, though. He was without a doubt the slipperiest snake of the bunch, and after that ill-timed attempt at flirtation I had been waiting for him to pull a stunt to embarrass me as I had embarrassed him.

"_That's positively Slytherin of you, isn't it dear?_" said the nagging voice in the back of my head. I told it to shut up, reminding it that I'm a Ravenclaw, and we're just like Slytherins, except much smarter and subtly better looking, despite all claims to the contrary. I shoved it into an even darker recess and valiantly ignored its disgruntled exclamations against such treatment.

"Well, I suppose that sounds like a valid reason to storm in here unannounced. Let's just put this incident behind us and never speak of it again, yes?" I watched his eyebrows lift in surprise briefly before he regained his composure, struggling to contain the mirthful grin straining at my lips. "Care to help me come up with a dastardly plan to get back at Zabini for putting us both in such an awkward position?" I couldn't help but laugh at the look of consummate shock he pulled this time.

Granger was going to be the death of me, of that I was sure. I just hadn't decided if it was to be an untimely and horrific death or one of overwhelming pleasure and delight. If I had to die, I sincerely hoped for the latter situation. She had agreed to meet up in the library that night to sketch out a plan against Blaise. Seeing as it was a Saturday, no one in their right minds, myself and Granger excluded, would be caught dead in the library, thus insuring our privacy. I was fairly certain she didn't know about the bet between Blaise and myself, but I wouldn't put it past her to figure it out sooner rather than later. I hoped to be fully on her good side by that point to at least avoid the risk of extermination. I had a few corrupt plans myself, but I had a hunch Hermione – no, GRANGER – would be adverse to using certain methods. Dark magic was obviously out. She may not be attached to the hip with the Bumbling Besties, Potter and Weasley, but they still influenced her far more than was necessary, in my completely uninterested, not invested, third-party opinion.

I glanced down the hall into the Slytherin common room and caught Blaise's eye. Must he look so smug? I'm sure he knew I had barged in on Granger and thoroughly embarrassed the both of us, and he assumed that meant he had a clear path to seducing her. Freaking git. He always forgets that Malfoys will ruthlessly defend their honor and pride, especially after a slap in the face like that. I decided it would be best to let him think I was taking this lying down, while secretly sucking up to Granger. That way, once Blaise thought he had won the bet, I would emerge triumphant, regal and sparkling. Maybe not sparkling, but definitely shiny.

I slapped my forehead. Of course! This was the perfect revenge plan. Granger would love it, tricking Zabini into thinking she was interested, then tossing him aside like yesterday's newspaper. I almost couldn't wait until that evening to tell her the news, and spent dinner in the Great Hall doing my very best not to glance over at the Ravenclaw table too many times or break out into a spontaneous jig.

I lazed about near the Restricted Section about an hour before curfew, waiting for Malfoy to show up. I hated to admit it, but I had been looking forward to the meeting all day. Slimy git that he was, he still managed to offer intelligent conversation for the most part. I just had to hope I could manage to do the same. My mind had started wandering back to that kiss from the night before, and for the life of me I couldn't decide if I loved it or hated it. Probably both, knowing how emotionally inept I tend to be. Malfoy hadn't said anything about it since I'd shoved him to the floor, although I hadn't given him any good opportunities to bring the subject up. He wasn't like Ron, who would be stupid enough to breach the topic while at wand-point. Ugh, he was the last person I wanted to be thinking about right now, all slobber and freckles. Sweet on the inside, but a tad too reminiscent of a ginger German Shepherd. Most certainly not a fuckable specimen. Malfoy on the other hand... I shook my head and turned my attention to the lean form approaching me from across the library.

"Malfoy," I murmured once he was in ear-shot. He looked up and my stomach did floppy somersaults at his cheeky smirk. No, I absolutely refuse to degrade myself in this manner. I did not react to Draco because I'm attracted to him, nay I didn't even react to him, it's merely a case of gastric distress. That also happens to be affecting my mental capacities.

"Granger, I'm glad you didn't stand me up for our little rendezvous. I would have been so disappointed," he whispered, avoiding Madame Pince's scuttling gaze. I watched his lips move, as soft as one would expect a Malfoy's lips to look, except the little worried spot on the left. I remembered watching him bite that spot during our OWLs in fifth year and it had caught my attention each time we had an exam from then on out. It was endearing, I suppose. As close to endearing as Draco Malfoy could be, that is. Infuriatingly familiar was a better term. I tuned back in to listen to the end part of his speech.

"As you can see, once you've completely wrapped him around your finger, you'll toss him aside in front of the entire school. Not only will it make up for the humiliation the both of us suffered this morning, but I'm sure you have several friends who have suffered from Blaise's less than endearing sense of humor." He waited for me to respond, but I merely stared at him in confusion. This was all well and fine indeed, but how exactly was I to wrap Blaise around my finger? Malfoy sighed and rubbed his temple in the elegant way only a Slytherin could as I asked him exactly that.

"Granger," he began pleadingly. "Try and pay attention, will you? You're going to seduce Blaise. I explained this all in the beginning but I knew you weren't listening to me." He finished with a flourish of his hand and melodramatically rolled his eyes.

He gazed on in shock as I doubled over in hysterical laughter. His disgruntled muttering made me attempt at normal breathing, with loud hiccups as the result. After another five minutes alternating between hyper-ventilating and laughter-induced tears, I finally managed to explain my amusement.

"I couldn't possibly seduce Zabini. You've seen me in public before, right? Not to mention I doubt he'd even be interested after I man-handled him in the Great Hall. Besides, who am I to think I could seduce a Slytherin? That's your house's claim to fame, Malfoy."

"You forget that he's a male. Despite your less, _mainstream _fashion choices, you are still a female. In addition to being a female you are neither old, nor are you overly offensive to look at. You can be a bit of a harpy sometimes, but I think that's just a gender-wide malfunction."

I rolled my eyes at that last part. "So assuming that your plan works, how long do you intend to keep this charade up?"

His eyes lit up with a devious grin, "As long as it takes for Zabini to fall for you."

**A/N**

**Well? Love it? Hate it? Let me know, I'm running off to type my fingers to the bone. :p**


	5. Subtlety is Key

**Disclaimer: Do not own, despite all my dreams claiming otherwise.**

**A/N: slytherin-until-i-die, you're awesome. Officially going into my favorites box.**

Today commenced our revenge against Zabini. Despite my godfather and Head of House being the instructor, I couldn't remember a time I had been more excited for potions. Granger and I had decided a full-blown assault would raise Blaise's suspicions too quickly, so subtlety would be our best ally in this endeavor. I took my usual seat next to Blaise and waited for Granger to start the show.

When she waltzed in mere moments before class was to start, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She sat down next to Terry Boot, pulled out her equipment, and shrugged off her robes. At first glance, nothing seemed unusual. I only noticed because I had been looking for it, her skirt charmed to a barely decent length, her dragon occasionally sneaking into view, and her blouse fitted just enough to make you notice the curves. I smirked at Blaise, who had watched this charade with all the class of a drooling dog, as he squirmed in his seat. I tried my hardest not to laugh, knowing the worst was yet to come.

Snape assigned us a Blood Replenishing Potion to create for the day, and within fifteen minutes the entire class of seventh years were hunched over their cauldrons working fervently. I kept my eye on Granger, watching her from the corner of my eye in anticipation for her next move. I saw her roll her moonstone off the desk so it rolled under mine and Blaise's. She leaned over to grab them, not even acknowledging Blaise as she did so, despite taking almost too long to collect her ingredients. Blaise made no attempt whatsoever to hide the fact that he was staring straight down her blouse through this entire debacle. Once he could leave his potion on stasis, he whipped out parchment and a quill and started scribbling furiously.

"She won't read it," I whispered to him. "She'll toss it in her cauldron fire without even opening it up."

He glared and retorted, "Nobody can resist me, Malfoy. Even on the off chance that you're right, I'll just keep at it until she gives in." With that, he folded up the note asking Granger to accompany him to Hogsmeade and surreptitiously slid it onto her desk. Granger opened it, rolled her eyes, and stuffed the note into her flame.

"I told you she'd light it on fire."

"But she opened it. Admit it, Malfoy, I'm going to beat you at this bet."

"Whatever you say, Zabini," I murmured as he scribbled out another request. That note, along with the following forty-three requests ranging from Hogsmeade dates to pleas for a chance, suffered a similar fate to the first letter. Finally, on the forty-sixth missive, Granger gave an inch. She hurriedly scribbled a reply to Blaise and handed it to him just as Snape announced it was time to bottle potions. She threw her things together and flounced out of class before Blaise could even finish reading, although the look of mixed triumph and sinking horror kept him too occupied to care.

I cleared my throat inquisitively as we trudged to the Great Hall and he thrust the note in my hands. I scanned over Blaise's final plea to give him a chance out of the goodness of her heart (I snickered at that one) and burst out laughing in tears at her answer.

_"Blaise, I don't trust you even half as far as I can throw you, an action I'm sure you're familiar with. I will, however, grant you one chance to plea your case. Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at 8:30 tonight. If you think you can gang up on me with your Slytherin lackeys and humiliate me, you have been warned. If you choose not to heed me then I suggest getting really friendly with Mrs. Norris so she won't eat you."_

Blaise gazed at me with terrified eyes, "She wouldn't really turn me into a rodent, would she?"

I raised my eyebrow at him, "She said she'd only do that if you don't come alone. You do the math." I retorted as I walked off. I was irritated with Blaise for being so stubborn, and irritated with Granger as well, although I hadn't the faintest clue as to why.

I finished talking to Blaise around nine, feeling accomplished and in serious need of a shower. I'd promised Draco I would bring up to speed after I had finished, though, so I went to meet him in the library again. He still hadn't made mention of the kiss, and I was getting antsy. I suppose I just wanted to clear the air, since we were working together in a semi-civil manner. The annoying voice reminded me that I had enjoyed it and wanted to kiss him again. I felt sick as I remembered I was seducing Blaise and would have to do that with him. A scowl even more firmly set on my face, I eased over to the corner Malfoy was occupying.

I watched her walk toward me, but made no movement to acknowledge her presence. My stomach was knotted in my throat at what she was planning on doing with Blaise, and as much as I tried to deny it, I was jealous. I'd spent the entire evening trying to convince myself I was merely concerned about my stake in this bet, but that failed miserably when my brain insisted on conjuring up images of that brief moment in my quarters. I settled into my chair as a grimace sank upon my face.

"The meeting went well," she murmured. "Blaise thinks that I'm begrudgingly interested in him. I think I even heard the prat whistling as he left." I snorted involuntarily at this. Hermione smirked and continued with her discourse. "He tried to convince me to go to Hogsmeade with him, but I told him in no uncertain terms that I refused to suffer the indignity of being seen with him in public." I openly grinned as I imagined Zabini going red in the face at the thought of someone finding him an embarrassment.

Hermione smiled back at me, and my gut twisted; whether from happiness, anxiety, or something equally asinine, I didn't care at this point. She finished by saying that she had consented to have one drink with him at the Three Broomsticks as long as it didn't look like a date, when she mentioned she was uneasy about that next aspect of our plan from her lack of recent practice.

"What the hell are you talking about, Hermione? Didn't you date Weasley all of sixth year?" I blurted out.

Her face darkened, and I knew I had hit a sore spot. "Yes," she countered. "Ron and I were exclusive last year, but I don't think you need me to assure you that it was less than stimulating, and more just a thing of convenience for both of us. I'm surprised I lasted as long as I did without hexing him from sheer boredom, to be honest."

"But still, ignoring the fact that he's a bleeding moron, he took you on dates didn't he?"

For once the eyebrow was raised at me. "I thought I made that painfully clear, Malfoy. It was a thing of convenience, meaning no real romance was there. Dates are not convenient. Snogging is, if you happen to be sufficiently bored at the moment."

I was flabbergasted. This certainly threw a wrench in everything if Granger was potentially going to act like a ninny the entire time she was with Blaise, and I let her know what I thought of that, specifically that she needed to fix it.

"And what exactly do you suggest I do to rectify the situation, Mr. Malfoy?" She growled dangerously. God, I was starting to act like Weasley himself for all the tact I was exuding. I backtracked as best I could and suggested she practice with me, for the sake of convenience, a few days before the Hogsmeade trip. I didn't feel it was necessary to admit to her, or myself for that matter, that I just wanted an excuse to see her alone and to myself again.

**A/N**

**Please review, it helps me feel as though I'm not wandering blindly in the sea of approval. Until the next chapter, what will our beloved hero and heroine suffer through in the murky goop of hormones and emotions! Cheesy enough for ya? I'm in one of those moods tonight. :]**


	6. Ginny and Firewhiskey

**A/N I'm so sorry I've been a slow poke with updating... My sister came up to visit from college for the weekend, and she's delightfully distracting. But I hope this chapter will suffice, and keep me from being fed to the wolves.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own, despite all wishes to the contrary**

After meeting with Draco, I flopped on my bed and sighed heavily. Summoning _Hogwarts, a History_ to me, I flipped through it lazily, my mind miles away in a small bookstore arguing abstract theory with a certain platinum-haired Slytherin. I groaned and let the heavy tome fall on my face. This was going to end in disaster; Draco and I were absolutely, without a doubt, perfectly, asininely and most definitely not a good match. If you discounted similar levels of intelligence, equally morbid senses of humor, and an obviously mutual physical attraction, we had nothing in common. Did I mention this was a bad idea?

I threw the book on the floor and started pacing, muttering to myself as though that would magically solve the problem. On the one hand, Draco was a notorious dick and womanizer. My trust in him marginally exceeded my trust in Blaise.

"But," nagged the annoying voice yet again, "you don't trust anyone, and despite that, you trust him more every day. At the very least you trust him more than Ron." Point taken. On the other hand, he was my equal in just about everything, and had mellowed out significantly after the Umbridge debacle and then more once Pansy finally dumped him.

My reflection caught my eye as I traipsed past it. I grimaced, looking at my bushy hair which, while much tamer than it was even a year ago, was still too wild for my taste. It made me look like a dirty hippie, especially when exam weeks drew near. I took out the barbell in my tongue, hoping it would improve my appearance. It did, barely. I almost took my nose piercings out but decided against it; they made me look exotic, and I needed all the help I could get in that department. I figured this was the best I was going to manage on my own, and did something I hadn't dared do since Ron and I broke up: I asked Ginevra Weasley for assistance.

"Tell me again why we're doing this, Hermione," Ginny giggled as she worked through the tangles in my hair. I winced again as she tugged away, oblivious to my discomfort. I had hedged the details of why exactly I needed Ginny's help with this task, even though as a Ravenclaw my dislike of Slytherins wasn't historically as great as the Gryffindors, I doubted she would listen very well to my reasons.

"I have a date," I muttered irritably. Admitting this much was painful, Ginny was second only to Molly Weasley in matchmaking attempts. I had to avoid the Burrow for six solid months after Ron and I broke up in order to stay away from Molly's attempts to assign me to a new Weasley boy. With Ginny knowing that this was for a date, no matter how much of a sham the date itself was, she might actually explode from excitement.

Ginny squealed. She _squealed_. I groaned, waiting for the impending splatter of flesh and internal organs against my walls at her implosion, but thankfully my anticipation was in vain. "Who are you going on a date with? Where are you going? Who is he? Or is it a she? You know, I haven't seen you with anyone lately except Malfoy, but it couldn't be him. Wait, is it Malfoy? You're going on a date with Malfoy? Oh, that's so wonderful!"

I stared at her, dazed and trying to process all the words that came out of her mouth. I couldn't possibly have heard her correctly. "What on earth did you just say, Ginny?"

"I just wanted to know where you're going for your date with Malfoy," she grinned.

I was in so much shock that my brain couldn't function enough to start denying this claim, so the most intelligent thing I could come up with ended up being, "I don't know, the library?" If Ginny could look any more unamused by those prospects, I'm not entirely sure how she could have conveyed that to me. This wasn't even a real date, it was just a discussion of sorts before my actual sham of a date with Blaise. Shit, I had almost forgotten about that. I most definitely could not let Ginny know what was going on with Blaise, or mine and Draco's revenge plan would be ruined.

"Ginny, this is still very much a not public occurrence, so if you could refrain from mentioning this to _anyone_, I won't have to hex your face off."

Ginny snorted and reassured me she wouldn't tell anyone, including Ron and Harry. I relaxed, at least enough to listen to her while she explained what she was doing so if this date didn't end in disaster I could replicate it. By the time she finished, I had a look of utter shock and horror on my face (I'm sure) at the prospect of ever going through this cosmetic torture again. I had to admit, though, that I looked fuckable. It was a good feeling, and I hoped for Draco's sake that he was ready for tonight, because I was bringing Firewhiskey, and all stops were coming out for this faux date.

I paced the library, waiting for Hermione to show up for our practice date. Her date with Blaise was tomorrow, and I couldn't decide if I was more nervous for tonight or tomorrow afternoon. I fidgeted with my tie, hoping I didn't look as though I had overdressed for the occasion. I had been grappling with myself over this decision for hours now, and I still wasn't positive on what I was going to do. God, I'm acting like such a ninny, just man up and snog the girl!

The door to the Restricted Section opened, and I turned to see Hermione waltzing towards me with Firewhiskey in her hand and a cheeky grin on her face. I returned the gesture with my signature smirk, and grasped her hand to lead her to the Astronomy Tower. It seemed as though my plan of action was going to be further facilitated by the beverage of choice for tonight.

"You look simply ravishing tonight, Hermione," I crooned, watching her shiver. It seemed as though she had already started drinking without me, judging from her less-than-orderly walk. Not that I was complaining, just observing.

"Oh you, you're just being nice. Remember, this is a practice date, dear Draco, so do try to be at least _somewhat_ realistic," she giggled. I honestly had no intention of treating this as a practice date for anything, merely to blow her mind enough to think of only me and crush Blaise in less subtle manner than perhaps originally planned. She didn't need to know that quite yet, though.

I poured myself a shot of whiskey as she lounged near the observatory window, basking in the moonlight. It certainly gave her an ethereal quality, not unattractive in the slightest. She was blathering on about some mundane aspects of her scheduled date with Blaise tomorrow, and as a combined result of my lack of desire to speak of Zabini and the reckless bravery that comes with alcohol, I pulled her from the windowsill and apparently shocked her enough to get her to stop talking momentarily.

"Draco, what are you-"

"Shut up, Granger." With that, I kissed her in her drunken stupor, reveling in the fact that she still seemed attracted to me as she did that far-off night after detention. And so far, I wasn't being thrown out of any windows and she wasn't running away. Quite the contrary, she seemed eager to further the exploration from mere kissing to more indulgent activities. I could feel the whiskey going to my head, making the sensations of her shoving roughly against me even more pleasant, until my stupid mouth opened.

"Fuck, Zabini is going to be so pissed that I won the bet."

Abruptly, Hermione stopped her ministrations and looked at me sharply. "Excuse me?" she barked. "What bet are you talking about?" All traces of intoxication seemed to be draining from her features rapidly, only to be replaced by the infamous Granger Fury.

Buggering hell. I tried to think of a way to get out of this, only managing to further incriminate myself as she pieced together the more lascivious aspects of the bargain I had struck with Blaise. I tried to explain to her my motives, and tell her I was going to call it off, but before I could even get a word out, I found myself trussed up, hanging upside down from the ceiling, with bat-bogies on my face, and obscenely purple hair. I suppose I deserved it, putting myself in a situation to invoke the wrath of the smartest witch in Hogwarts, but it didn't ease my injured pride, nor did it keep my conscience from telling me what a bloody arse I had been.

**A/N Well, Draco is a right moron. At least he is when he drinks. Can he redeem himself? Or is he doomed to perpetually purple plumage? Sorry, I couldn't resist the alliteration :p**


End file.
